


Comedians

by CuttingEdge



Category: Uncharted
Genre: I dunno how I ended up shipping these two but I did, I'm calling the ship "cake", Late Night Conversations, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuttingEdge/pseuds/CuttingEdge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a successful trip through the underground of London, the treasure hunters celebrate before splitting up; Syria and France awaits. Even as the hours grow late, Nathan Drake can't seem to find sleep. [One Shot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comedians

A very distinct smell of blood and sweat hung in the heavy air of the small studio apartment. The sound of sirens rushed past on the streets below. The twisting and turning streets of London. A short moment ago, a four-part conversation had filled the room. Drinking to- and celebrating their (temporary) success. It had fallen quiet with the absence of the three others.

Nate sat by the small table with his head buried in papers; the map, his notebook, random notes scratched down in a hurry. He tapped the pen against the table thoughtfully.

“Nate? You’re still up?” It made him flinch in his seat. Brought him back from the dreamlike state he had been stuck in for… how long? He glanced up to find Charlie Cutter standing across from him. “Jesus, Cutter. A little warning would have been nice.” That produced a smirk on the other man’s face. “Sorry, darling. I wouldn't have thought you were so easy to scare."

“Ha-ha.” Nate looked at his watch before running his hand over his face. Three in the morning. God, it really was late. He closed the notebook and shoved it back into his pocket. There was still noise from the streets streaming in through the open window. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it a little past your bed time?”

Charlie scoffed and shook his head. “Downright comedian,” he took a seat in the chair opposite Nate. A half-empty bottle of whiskey was still on the table, and he poured a shot into his empty glass. “I couldn't sleep.” He added, less joking in his tone. Now it was Nate’s turn to scoff. He pushed his own glass over the table for a refill. “Obviously.” He really should head to bed before the sun began to rise.

His fingers tapped against the table, while the other hand shuffled around papers. Then he reached for the refilled glass. It was quiet for a moment before Charlie spoke again. “Sorry about the head, mate,” the hint of mockery again twisting into his voice. “You really should choose your opponents more wisely. Someone your own size maybe.” Nate rolled his eyes and took a swig of the whiskey. “Who’s the comedian again?”

It drew a short laugh from Charlie who had already emptied his own glass. “Still you.” More head-shaking and a tired sigh that evolved into a yawn. “Come on,” Charlie offered his hand to a slightly confused Nate. He gave an encouraging nod. “We’re off in the morning. Better get some sleep, right?” His voice was softer, mockery replaced with something like affection. Of course that might just be because he was tired as well.

Nate took the hand and pulled himself up. “You’re right,” he shrugged off the suit jacket and put it over the back of the chair. “There’s a long way to France.”

“Even longer to Syria,” Charlie noted. He patted Nate softly on the shoulder before letting his hand fall down along his side. “Goodnight, Nate.” He added, almost as an afterthought. His tongue ran over his lips before he turned around to walk away, leaving the other man standing in the middle of the room with a strangely awkward feeling poking in the pit of his stomach.

“Goodnight.”


End file.
